Lucky Break by J. Minter Page B

need to keep busy, to keep my mind off of—”
    â€œTrust me, there’s plenty to keep you busy here—and keep your mind off of he who shall remain nameless—
without
sticking you in a rice field. Look,” she said, reaching into the pocket of her smock. “I made you a whole list of things to do.”
    She handed me a sheet of paper with her signature messy scrawl. The list was broken down by category: restaurants, shopping, and sacred places. I wanted to see everything—I didn’t even know where to start. Luckily, at that moment, my stomach growled, pulling my eyes to the restaurant section first.
    â€œTom Yam Kung sounds great,” I said, thinkingthat if a restaurant was named after my favorite spicy lemongrass soup, it had to be delicious.
    â€œIt’s the best in the city.” Feb nodded. “You have to go there—in fact, you should go tonight.”
    â€œ
I
should go?” I repeated. “Won’t
we
go there together?”
    Feb shot Kelly a look and scratched her head. “Thing is, Flan, we’re doing this fast. Just for another thirty-six hours—don’t look so shocked, it’s really restorative.”
    â€œLet me get this straight,” I said. “You’re not going to eat … at all?”
    Kelly piped up: “But don’t let that stop you from enjoying yourself.”
    Didn’t Mom send me to here to shake me
out
of the
Feast, Fast, Fall
mind-set?
    â€œHere’s what you do,” Feb said. “Take our canoe across the river, hail yourself a rickshaw into town, and have it drop you off at Khao San Road.”
    â€œBy myself?” I asked.
    â€œIt’s a total party zone,” Feb said. “You’ll have a blast.”
    Before I knew it, both of them were guiding me back down the dock, where a row of old canoes was moored. Feb handed me an oar and said, “You sure you’re going to be okay?”
    I forced myself to nod, even though I was anything but sure. I didn’t want to get in the way of their fast, or make them wish they hadn’t agreed to put me up.
    â€œDon’t stay out too late,” Feb warned, as if I’d be rocking the clubs till dawn.
    â€œThat’s right,” Kelly agreed. “We have big plans for you tomorrow.” And with that, Feb gave the canoe a gentle shove with her foot and sent me down the misty river by myself.
    This was crazy, and terrifying, and … really freaking cool. As I paddled down the river (something I hadn’t done since Camp Starlight) I tried to mentally recap how I, Flan Flood, had ended up here. It didn’t seem possible—or real.
    When I heard the special “Paper Planes” ringtone that I’d set for Camille—hallelujah!—I seized the phone from my pocket. Hopefully there were no laws about canoeing and talking on your phone at the same time.
    â€œCamille?” I said.
    â€œFlan?” she said.
    â€œPlease tell me I’m not dreaming,” we both said at the same time.
    â€œYou first,” I said.
    â€œI’m in Jade Moodswing’s atelier! Help! I’m addicted to couture. What about you?”
    I struggled between wanting to ask Camille a million questions about Jade’s new line and wanting to spill everything about my trip to Thailand.
    â€œI’m rowing myself down the Chao Phraya River in Bangkok,” I said finally.
    â€œHa-ha. So, tell me—how are the Italian men?” she asked.
    â€œNo, seriously, I’m in Bangkok. Italy … wasn’t working,” I said, using my mom’s expression. “So I flew out last night—”
    â€œFlan, you’re breaking up!” I looked down at my phone and saw that I was just about out of range. Before the phone completely cut out, I heard bits of Camille shouting. “You better write me a long e-mail pronto, and you’d better send pics of you having fun!”
    I sighed and hung up the